


For Recreational Use Only

by Random_Nexus



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Author Knows Nothing About Hard Drug Use, Bisexuality, Drug Use, Homosexuality, M/M, No Romance, Opportunistic Sex, Pining, Pining Sherlock, Possible Dub-Con Due To Drug Use, Prompt Fic, Sherlock Holmes and Drug Use, Sherlock Kink Meme - Tumblr, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 18:04:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11407677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_Nexus/pseuds/Random_Nexus
Summary: Sherlock is having Billy Wiggins help him get monstrously high without actually killing himself, while Billy is somewhat less high, but when Sherlock's strict self-control and inhibitions are reduced, he calls upon Billy to help him in other ways.  Billy is always willing to lend Sherlock a hand... or whatever will do the job.Written For The Prompt: "BBC, Sherlock/Billy Wiggins. High off their tits decadent druggie sex - however you want it. Shotgunning (blowing smoke/etc directly into another’s mouth/etc), shooting each other up, doing lines off each other’s bodies, bargaining for drugs or expertise (chemistry pop quiz?), making deals together, ill-advised dares, etc. Obviously impaired-judgment dub-con is inherent in the prompt but I’d prefer no outright non-con." - Prompt #196 fromSherlock Kink Meme - Tumblr.Warnings:YES!  Drug use, Possible dub-con due to drug use, Implied pining, Opportunistic sex, Ill-advised life choices, Manly scrumping, Author clueless about hard drug use.





	For Recreational Use Only

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, thanks to my beta [Tysolna](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Tysolna/pseuds/Tysolna), you rock, my dear! <3 When I first started this, I intended to use far more of the prompt's suggestions, but the Muse and the characters sort of... ran off with me? I wasn't sure I ought to go on with it, but then the prompter let me know who they were and that they were happy I was doing the fill and... *sigh/shrug*... how could I not finish? I hope you like it well enough, m'friend!

“Th’fing is… y’see… fing is…” Billy Wiggins stared up at a spot on the ceiling, mostly in shadows—well, most of the room was in shadow, and had been for days—and tried to see if it was moving while attempting to express a thought that had just wandered into his brain.

“Thing is what?” drawled a deeper than deep voice from off to Billy’s right… possibly his left… no, it was his right.

“What?” Billy asked, not daring to look away from the spot, in case it chose that moment to move.

“You said, ‘thing is, you see, thing is’ only you didn’t say it properly, but that’s not the point.” Shezza blew a long plume of smoke toward the ceiling, not quite at that spot, but close enough for Billy to see the smoke. “The point is that you didn’t finish your half-arsed question.”

“Oh, well, didn’t mean t’say it out loud, did I?” mumbled Billy, belatedly remembering what he’d been about to say.

“The _point_ , Wiggins, is that you didn’t say all of it—out loud or not—and now I want to know.” Pronouncing every syllable, biting the end off every… consonant, yeah… biting the end off every consonant and shaping every portion of each word with terse precision, Shezza—well, he was Sherlock Holmes, actually, but Billy’d only known him as ‘Shezza’ forever, hadn’t he?—or whoever he wanted to be today, spoke in that way that wasn’t exactly anger, but was ready to be in a second or two if pushed. And he was so easily pushed these days, wasn’t he?

“Bloody… it’s just this stuff makes you want a li’l sumfin’, y’know? Not like it’s _convenient_ or anyfing, is it?” Billy figured what the hell, might as well just say it, because Shezza would suss it out in a few minutes, anyhow.

A big, loud sigh accompanied another bout of smoke and Billy took that as an agreement, or at least understanding, but not the happy sort. Then, voice still lower than usual due to the drugs and the smoke, Shezza—Sherlock, whoever—rumbled, “I do know and it isn’t. Convenient. In the slightest.”

“S’truff, Shez. Not inna slightest, but… yeah. Just… m’mouth’s watering, y’know?” Billy sighed, resisting rubbing his crotch by a teeny, tiny margin, and gripping the arms of the wooden chair only helped so much.

“What’s the saying?” Shezza murmured. “Gagging for it?” He shifted in his chair, all long legs and arms and torso, his pyjama bottoms clinging in all the wrong places. Well, wrong for Billy’s current state of mind, anyhow. It was just… _right there_ and not even hidden by a proper pair of trousers or one of Shezza’s posh dressing gowns.

Billy lost his focus on the ceiling spot—no, he was going to get a ladder and a marker, because that thing had moved—and found himself looking at the slightly more prominent bulge in Shezza’s grey-blue pyjamas. _It didn’t look too big_ , Billy thought, _he could probably take most of it without choking_. In the years they’d known one another, sober and otherwise, he’d never seen the other man erect, but—

“Ohhh…” Shezza all but purred in that ‘figured something out’ voice of his. “I see. _You’re_ gagging for it.” Billy tore his gaze away from the cloth covered cock that he knew he saw twitch just before Shezza spoke. He wondered distantly if he looked shocked, frightened, or caught out as Shezza studied him from under half-closed eyelids. Lips pulled upward at the corners, though not in a happy-happy-joy sort of way, Shezza carefully blunted the last half-inch of joint into the ash-tray nearby until it went out. He let his head loll on the backrest of his chair, but tilted so his eyes never left Billy’s. “Yet another professedly straight bisexual, hm?”

“Never said I was straight,” Billy argued without any heat or even much annoyance; he mostly talked about girls, sure, but that was what blokes were expected to do, wasn’t it? He shrugged. “Just never mentioned I liked a bit of cock now and then, adds a bit of spice between the cunts.”

“Ugh,” Shezza sneered, turning his lip up markedly. “Such language, you Neanderthal.” He sighed, spreading his long, long legs blatantly and sliding a bit further down in his chair. “Get over here and plug up that word hole of yours before my high fades.”

Sitting bolt upright so fast his head spun—well, more than it was already spinning—Billy halted with his hands on the arms of the chair. “You serious?” Billy asked suspiciously.

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Wiggins,” Shezza drawled in his ‘bored now, entertain me’ voice. “Or, in this case, I suppose it should be, ‘don’t look a gift cock in the meatus’, but that’s not particularly catchy, is it? I’ll want another hit pretty soon, so you’d best hurry before I put you to proper work again.”

Despite a little part of him still wanting to argue with Shezza about his whole drug schedule—sure, Billy had supplied him with all sorts of premium-grade chemicals over the years they’d known one another, but there was a limit, wasn’t there?—he was still stumbling across the room and on his knees between Shezza’s wide-flung thighs in about two seconds, maybe less. It wasn’t just satisfying the urge, really, it was a chance at having something like this from Shezza, Mister Sherlock Holmes, himself, who was a bloody brilliant man and all, despite what the world thought about the methods he used to keep that amazing brain of his in line. Billy knew how extraordinary the man was, because he’d personally helped Shezza get monstrously altered on his own professional concoctions and _still_ seen him think rings around perfectly sober ordinary folk.

By the time Billy had fished Shezza’s cock out, tugging down the front of his pyjamas just short of roughly, the thing was nearly fully hard and the head peeking out of the foreskin with glistening deep-rose approval. He licked his lips and moaned a little at the momentous occasion. It was a little bigger than he’d guessed, but not some enormous meat-stick from a ridiculous porno, and Billy knew he could have plenty of enjoyment from it without a moment’s worry.

“Get on with it,” Shezza urged on an impatient note, yet somehow also nearly sounding bored, but that was the man, himself, wasn’t it?

“Oh, yeah, I’m on it,” Billy replied, closing his eyes as he recklessly plunged forward, sucking down well over half of the hot-fleshed shaft at once. Shezza’s hips shifted a little, and he gave a sighing sort of sound, like he’d be moaning if he let himself. Billy moaned again, on purpose, for the both of them, and then hollowed out his cheeks sucking while swirling his tongue.

Shezza grunted, blending into a breathy, open-mouthed sound. When Billy peeked through lust-heavy eyes, he saw both of Shezza’s big hands gripping the arms of his chair tightly. Yeah, that was a sign, all right.

Gripping and squeezing himself through his trousers, Billy went at it with gusto, licking and sucking, going deep enough to almost choke himself and then out till all he held was the very tip between his lips; all the while getting soft, restrained sounds floating down to him from Shezza’s long, long throat. Throughout, Shezza’s eyes remained closed, every time Billy checked, and most times he was biting his lower lip bloodless. He wasn’t sure if Shezza was trying to keep from making any noise or trying to imagine Billy was someone else.

It wasn’t too hard to imagine who that might be, was it?

If things were different than they were, Billy could’ve taken it badly, but he had no illusion that he and Shezza were anything more than mates, and even that much started more as a matter of necessity than preference—at least on Shezza’s part—though they had genuinely become friends over the years. All the same, no fancies of fluffy happy times in Mrs. Wiggins’ boy’s clever head, no indeed. For now he was being allowed this much of Shezza, as well as his trust, and he would enjoy both however it came about.

Saying as little as possible, mostly due to his mouth being happily full, Billy used everything he’d ever learned about sucking cock—certainly helped having one, didn’t it?—and Shezza was soon rocking his hips into it, moaning behind clenched teeth, and gripping the arms of his chair like he’d tear them loose. Full marks, then, Billy thought as he followed the rhythm, humping into the curve of his hand while bracing his forearm against the base of the chair. He didn’t have as many drugs in his system as Shezza, but the concentration it took to do a proper job of gobbling down the man’s cock kind of kept Billy from getting too close to coming off, himself.

Finally, somewhere after Billy got a little lost in the rhythm and repetition of the whole thing, Shezza lost the battle with himself and let go some deep groans before saying in a back-of-the-throat sort of whine, “Yes, oh… oh, I’m… almost… ohhh… Jo—” and broke off with an audible snapping-shut of his jaw to just growl out a long, wordless sound as he came off down Billy’s throat. Squirting salty, bitter spunk onto the back of Billy’s tongue, Shezza’s cock unloaded three twitching pulses before going still again.

Swallowing it all, suckling the residue off of the slowly softening cock, Billy fumbled a bit to unzip his trousers; oh, bloody hell that was so hot, he needed to come, too.

“Don’t waste it!” Shezza snapped, still a bit breathless.

“Wha?” mumbled Billy, confused and so fucking turned on he felt like his bollocks might explode if he didn’t have a wank soon.

“I want another hit and, immediately after, I want you to fuck me.”

Billy gripped himself hard through the fabric of his trousers and his pants, jaw falling open in astonished disbelief. Words bloody failed him. He might’ve made a breathy sound with a sort of interrogatory lilt at the end, but that was the best he could muster at that moment.

Not opening his eyes, not even making an attempt to pull his pyjamas back up over his spit- and semen-glossed cock, Shezza waved a hand in the direction of the kitchen, his bedroom lying just beyond. “There’s lube in my bedside table; fetch it for me and I’ll prepare myself while you prepare my next syringe. Mind you go by the schedule, Wiggins.”

“I… y-yeah, all right. I’ll… okay,” Billy stuttered a bit dazedly, hurrying to his feet, despite his knees’ protests, and doing as he was told. The lube was right there, in the drawer—of course a posh brand, in a black bottle with a pump and lettering in something other than English, maybe French, Billy wasn’t sure, nor did he care—and he brought it out to slap it into Shezza’s outstretched palm before turning back to the kitchen.

Without any further instructions, still hard as a sodding concrete bollard, Billy went to the apparatus they’d put together to cook up their ‘special brew’ of chemicals, worked out between the two of them, which was meant to gradually take Shezza from stone cold sober to all the appearances of his former junkie status without, hopefully, permanently damaging anything important. Or killing him, of course. Billy had argued with Shezza at the outset, knowing some of the struggle he’d gone through to get clean—as well as some of what he’d gone through when he was very _not_ clean—but, ultimately, Billy was always going to do what Shezza asked of him. They’d been through a lot, he and Shezza, and he couldn’t have articulated it properly aloud, but he knew in his heart that he’d long ago surrendered to the force of nature and will that was Sherlock Holmes.

Turning around with the carefully filled syringe in his hand, Billy nearly dropped it upon seeing Shezza kneeling in his chair with his pyjamas pulled down to just above his knees. Facing the back of the chair, he had one hand braced on the supple leather of the headrest’s upper curve and the other hand was behind him, two fingers moving in and out of his arse. His plush, gorgeous, entirely unfair arse. How did a lanky bloke like Shezza, who never ate as much as someone his size ought to, have a rounded, delicious-looking arse like that?

“Come on, come on!” urged Shezza without looking at Billy full-on. He kneeled upright and held out the arm he’d been using to brace himself. Billy only then saw the rubber tubing tied above his elbow, the veins in Shezza’s forearm standing out boldly amidst the previous needle marks. Between his forefinger and thumb was an unwrapped condom. “Put it on now. I want you ready to fuck me as soon as it starts hitting my system.”

Breath hitching, all Billy could say was, “Fuck.” Without further attempts at speech, Billy moved closer, eyes still catching on the movement of Shezza’s other arm, the muscles in his arm flexing and shifting beneath his pale skin as he fingered himself open. He rested the syringe on the little side table next to Shezza’s chair and nearly dropped the condom twice before he got it onto the tip of his still very eager cock—he was nearly purple with it, truth be told—and shivered at just the feeling of his own fingers smoothing it down to the base.

“I’m ready,” Shezza said, voice a little rough around the edges, clearly feeling it in a good way as he added a third finger. Billy swallowed hard. “Do it, Wiggins!”

“Right, doing it, Shezza,” replied Billy, taking up the syringe and trying not to smack his prick into the side of the chair as he stepped in to find a good vein and administer the dose. “Here it comes,” he murmured as he slowly depressed the plunger.

“Good, good,” rumbled Shezza, nodding, eyes closed as he pulled his fingers out of himself and wiped them on a dish towel he’d draped over the back of his chair, nearly hidden from Billy’s original angle. “Come _on_ , Wiggins!” he growled a moment later.

Releasing the tubing, letting it fall to the floor, Billy all but threw the syringe on the side table and hurried to get in behind Shezza, reaching out and almost worshipfully curving his hands around the narrow hips above that surprising arse. Shezza bent forward with a long, low exhale, not quite a moan, presenting himself at just about the perfect level for Billy to slide his cock right in.

And he did. Oh, fucking hell, he slid right on into that hot, tight hole. Shezza had done a proper job of it and, no doubt due to the rush he was getting right then, he was relaxed enough that there was almost no resistance, but it was still so perfectly snug a fit. Billy groaned meaningfully, sincerely, as he pulled Shezza’s hips toward him, wishing Shezza had taken his pyjamas all the way off, but not questioning. He was getting to fuck a delectable, prime arse—fucking Shezza’s arse!—and anybody with half a mind would just do the thing and not ask any questions. Billy shuddered a little as he bottomed out, his bollocks swinging forward to slap gently against the place where Shezza’s thighs met his buttocks. If his legs were spread more their bollocks might’ve touched, and Billy smirked a little at the old ‘it’s only gay if your balls touch’ line he’d heard… god knows where… but a moment later his mind was focussed on nothing but how good it felt.

“Move, damn it!” snarled Shezza, pushing back into Billy, nearly hard enough to make him stumble, but he planted his feet and nodded, despite the fact that Shezza was facing the other way with his eyes closed.

“Fuck, yeah,” he rasped as he started moving, because he could take direction just fine, couldn’t he? He pulled almost all the way out and shoved home firmly, getting a grunt, deep and visceral, from Shezza before he did it again.

“Harder,” Shezza said, obviously through gritted teeth. “Make me feel it!”

More than willing to bang away freely, Billy really put his back into it, pumping faster and faster until his hips were slapping against Shezza’s arse loudly. Every stroke felt like a surge of bliss for him, but Shezza’s grunts moved up to loud almost-shouts every few thrusts, shouts that tapered off into rough, uneven groans until the next one burst out.

Billy was making low grunts of his own with each push in and each time Shezza shouted, he felt a hot surge of reaction, like he might come from the startling pleasure of it. Pulling out again, he was worried he’d pull out too far and muck up the rhythm. Shezza’s not-quite-shouts were mellowing into something more like forceful ‘Ah’s, and he was rolling his body more with Billy’s strokes.

“Feeling it, ain’t ya?” murmured Billy, grinning. The drugs should be taking him further toward the peak, till everything fell away and all the little things cluttering his mind couldn’t touch him, couldn’t distract him—that’s how Shezza had described it once upon a time—and Billy knew this was all for some purpose the man had been obsessing over, but he still liked the idea of making Shezza feel good. It certainly helped that Billy was feeling gods bloody awesome in the process, of course.

“Shhh,” Shezza shushed him. “Just… ungh… Ahhhh… mmm… don’t speak,” he managed eventually. “Just fuck… fuck… mmm… yeah… fuck me.” He fell into more wordless sounds of obvious pleasure, gripping the chair with white-knuckled hands, rolling back into Billy’s thrusts vigorously.

Happy enough with the opportunity, still a little high, himself, though from the smoke, not the stuff he’d been cooking up with Shezza, for Shezza, Billy stifled his urge to talk as best he could. Unable not to make breathy grunts and moans, though, he still kept moving as fast and hard as he could to give Shezza what he had demanded; of course, it also gave himself what he wanted, didn’t it?

It wasn’t much longer, minutes, before Shezza’s undulations became a little erratic. His sounds broke into words again, deep and growling. “Yes, almost there… ah! Ah! Fuck.. yes, fuck me. Fuck me!”

That last was a shout, another demand, and Billy’s bollocks tightened, the reactive thrill of intense sensation shooting through him, pushing him closer to the edge. The edge he could tell Shezza was going to reach before him, despite having got off so recently.

“Don’t stop,” panted Shezza, head down as he shoved himself back onto Billy’s cock. “Never… stop… Ah! I’m… ah, ah… oh, yeaahhh,” he growled out the last word through clenched teeth, shoulders high and the small of his back exaggeratedly curved as he angled his arse up and back to get the best of Billy’s cock.

Shezza clenched as he came, muscles fluttering around Billy, making his jaw drop on a silent scream of pure, surprising pleasure. His own orgasm thundered up his spine, through his nearly bursting bollocks, and he shoved his cock in deep and shot off hard. The thought that he might blow out the end of the condom almost made him snort with laughter, but he was too busy locking his knees to keep from collapsing to the floor in a drooling puddle of satisfaction.

Even as his eyes were well rolled up in his head and his cock still squeezing out the last few jets of spunk, Billy felt Shezza collapse against the back of the chair. His ears were full of the thunder of his own pulse, sure enough, and he’d never say a word about it, but Billy heard a long, low, sighing mumble shaped into a name before Shezza’s face pushed into the supple leather and he just drooped there moaning softly.

It wasn’t like he was surprised, of course, and he’d already decided there was no point in being a pillock about it, but as he draped himself over Shezza’s scarred back, sneaking in a little kiss between his shoulder blades, Billy wished just a little bit of mayhem on that bloody Watson knob. He’d nearly broken Billy’s arm that time, whatever he claimed afterwards, and that might be water under the bridge and all, but he’d most certainly broken Shezza’s heart.

Of course, Shezza would be the first in line to insist he didn’t have one—a heart—but Billy knew better. That was one of the biggest lies old Shezza’d ever told, even if Billy never called him on it. Still, what sodding Doctor John ‘sprains people for fun’ Watson didn’t know had got Billy a bit of something special, hadn’t it? Even if Shezza didn’t remember it when he came down; still, Billy would remember.

Too fucking right he would.


End file.
